


Tata Kundara Oreru Mazen

by daydreamer1227



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, Hurt Oikawa Tooru, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Oikawa Tooru, Injury, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pining, Protective Iwaizumi Hajime, Romance, Scared Oikawa Tooru, Violence, Worried Iwaizumi Hajime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamer1227/pseuds/daydreamer1227
Summary: Oikawa has a shitty personality. Iwaizumi sticks around anyway.A collection of unrelated iwaoi oneshots. I bring the angst and I bring it hard.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 17
Kudos: 178





	1. These Delicate Hands Aren't Meant For Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oikawa? What’s wrong?”  
> There were quiet thuds and footsteps. Muted voices. Tooru’s mouth went dry.  
> “Oi. Oikawa. Oikawa. Answer me.”  
> “Iwa-chan,” said Tooru, carefully quiet, his voice shaking. “I think someone’s in the house.”

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru whined into his phone, lounging back on his futon. “How could you do this to your best and oldest and most handsome friend?”

“Cut the dramatics, Crappykawa,” said Iwaizumi. “We can watch your trashy movie tomorrow night.”

Tooru pouted. It may not have been _that_ big of a deal, but Iwaizumi had promised. Tooru had been looking forward to it _all day_.

“Oikawa?” said Iwaizumi. “Are you seriously sulking right now?”

“I’m upset, Iwa-chan! You decided to stay home to _study_ when you already promised your evening to me!”

“You are such a shitty person.”

“ _Hidoi naa!_ ”

“The only reason I even need to study for _an entire portion of tomorrow’s exam_ is because you gave me the wrong notes when I was sick!”

“I was so flattered that proud, never-needs-any-help Iwa-chan came to the Great Oikawa-san for assistance that I may have been slightly flustered when giving you my notes–”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I could have come over to help you study.”

“As if. I’d never get anything done. You’re too distracting.”

Oikawa lit up. “You think I’m distracting, Iwa-chan?”

“Because you’re so annoying!” he barked, not missing a beat. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, all right? I’ll bring you milk bread.”

“Five.”

“You’ll get one and like it, Greedykawa,” snapped Iwaizumi.

Tooru laughed. “Iwa-chan feels bad for ditching me, so he’s bringing me a present!”

Iwaizumi grumbled under his breath.

“Are you almost done studying?” asked Tooru. “There’s probably still time for you to come over and watch it.”

“I’m not staying up till the ass-crack of dawn with you.”

Tooru smiled. “Always so vulgar, Iwa-chan. You know, one of these days–”

There was a sound. Out of place. Tooru frowned.

“Oikawa?”

But the sound was gone.

“Ah, it’s nothing, Iwa-chan! I was just saying–”

Tooru sat up, a chill going down his spine, suddenly very conscious of his heart beating in his chest, because he had definitely heard it that time.

“Oikawa? What’s wrong?”

There were quiet thuds and footsteps. Muted voices. Tooru’s mouth went dry.

“ _Oi_. Oikawa. _Oikawa._ Answer me.”

“Iwa-chan,” said Tooru, carefully quiet, his voice shaking. “I think someone’s in the house.”

A heavy silence. “I swear to God, Oikawa, if you’re just saying this to get me to come over and rope me into watching that shitty movie–”

A _crash_ of something breaking. Tooru scrambled off the futon, a short sound of distress escaping from his mouth that he definitely hadn’t meant to make.

“I’m coming over.”

“No!” Tooru whispered. “No, Iwa-chan, what if they’re dangerous–”

“Like hell am I leaving you there alone!”

Tooru backed into the corner of his room and pressed himself into it. His house was traditional Japanese, with sliding doors–sliding doors that _didn’t lock_ –and his room was relatively simplistic, with no bulky furniture to hide behind. He was out in the open, exposed. He briefly considered climbing out his window–his _second story window_ –but––and what did it say about him that volleyball was the first thing that he thought about in that scenario, how if he landed wrong, if he injured himself and couldn’t play–

“You still there? Tooru?” He could hear Iwaizumi panting on the other line as he ran.

Tooru managed a sound of affirmation.

“I’m coming, okay? Five minutes. I’ll be there in five minutes. Are you in your room?”

Another broken sound.

“ _Fuck_. It’s okay, Tooru. Listen, I’m gonna hang up and call the police, okay?”

“ _No!_ Don’t leave–!”

“I’ll be right there, I promise. Don’t do anything stupid. You hear me?”

“ _Hai_.”

Iwaizumi ended the call. Oikawa kept a death-grip on his phone. The voices were close enough to his room that he could hear them clearly, now.

“You find anything?”

“Nah. How long did you say they were supposed to be out of town?”

“A week.”

Tooru pressed a hand over his mouth and tried to calm his harsh breathing.

The door slid open, revealing two men. One was tall, about as tall as Tooru even, and skinny, with hooded eyes and a haughty frown. The other was a literal brick wall, broader than Ushijima, with tree trunks for arms.

They froze in the doorway, staring at him.

Tooru may have stopped breathing.

“You didn’t check if the kid would be home?” snapped Skinny. Brick Wall just shrugged.

 _Don’t do anything stupid_ , Iwaizumi had said.

“We don’t have anything,” said Tooru, his voice steady. Only his shaking hands betrayed him. “Nothing worth taking–”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Skinny, his gaze cold. “Taichi, keep an eye on him while I search the rest of the house.”

Skinny stalked off with a scowl. Taichi the Human-Wall watched Tooru with narrowed, calculating eyes. “No family heirlooms? No emergency stash?”

“If there were, why would I tell you?” said Tooru. Taichi advanced, and Tooru panicked. “There’s not! There’s not!” he cried, pressing himself further into the corner because Iwaizumi had said _don’t do anything stupid_ and he’d gone and done just that, he’d opened his big, fat, stupid mouth, apparently unable to do something as simple as _not antagonize the robber_ for five freaking minutes–

“Are you sure about that?” Taichi asked, his voice a low, threatening growl, right into his ear.

The man standing in front of him was _huge_. “I’m sure,” he all but breathed.

A giant hand firmly grasped his shoulder and squeezed, the pressure bordering on the edge of painful.

Tooru was strong. Athletic. _Fit_. A force to be reckoned with on the court.

But he wasn’t… good at things like this. Real, physical aggression. Stuff that didn’t get resolved on the court.

_“For the love of– Stop crying.”_

_“It hurts, Iwa-chan!”_

_“You’re such a baby, Oikawa. Babykawa.”_

_“So mean!”_

_“How can you practice on your bum knee for hours and not bat an eye, but you get hit by your ex-girlfriend and come cry all over me?”_

_“It’s emotional pain.”_

_“No it isn’t.”_

_“You’re right. She has a mean right hook! She’d have a real future as a boxer.”_

_“You deserved it.”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“Is that why you didn’t fight back?”_

_“Fight back? These delicate hands aren’t meant for violence, Iwa-chan, especially not against Aki-chan.”_

_“I didn’t mean violence, I meant… I saw it happen. You could have moved out of the way.”_

_“Hmm. Maybe.”_

_“Delicate my ass.”_

He’d _never_ been good at things like this.

_“What the hell, Oikawa? Were you just gonna let him beat the crap out of you?”_

_“Don’t be silly, Iwa-chan! I knew you’d come to my rescue. See? Not a scratch on me!”_

_“No thanks to you!”_

_“Nope! All thanks to those big muscles of yours!”_

Tooru tried to think if he’d ever been in a physical altercation and _won_ and came up with nothing. He tried to think if he’d ever been in a physical altercation that he’d actually laid a hand on anyone _at all_. The only thing he could come up with was in Middle School when he’d almost hit Kageyama. Iwaizumi had caught his wrist and headbutt him into a nosebleed.

If this man headbutt him, he’d probably smash Tooru’s brains out of his skull.

He was torn between wishing Iwaizumi were there, because Iwa-chan was brave and strong and always protected him, and being glad that he wasn’t, because while Iwaizumi might be undefeated in arm wrestling at Aoba Johsai, this man’s arms were twice the size. He didn’t think this was a fight Iwaizumi could win, and that scared Tooru more than anything. He had to get these men out of his house before his best friend showed up, because he would charge in to save Tooru, and if Iwa-chan got hurt because of _him_ –

If Iwa-chan got hurt _at all_ –

“Please,” said Tooru, shaking, “just go. We don’t have anything of value.”

“I can easily find out if you’re lying to me,” said Taichi, tightening his grip. Tooru winced. “You don’t seem like a guy who can handle pain.”

“I only have like, 3000 yen,” said Tooru, his eyes starting to water. “I swear, there’s _nothing–_ ”

“This place is a dud.” Skinny was back. He took in Taichi’s hand on Tooru with a frown. “Having fun?”

“Just making sure he’s telling the truth.”

“Is he?”

The grip tightened, and Tooru let out a choked cry–

Then the hand was gone. “Yeah. There’s nothing here.”

The two men left, and Tooru’s legs gave out.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the floor, silently crying, his whole body shaking.

A thundering of footsteps running up the stairs. Iwaizumi’s frantic voice. “ _Tooru_!”

He barged into the room, sweating and breathing hard, eyes searching–

They found Tooru and he hurried forward, dropping to the ground next to him and gathering him into his arms. “Oh, thank God.”

Tooru buried his face in Iwaizumi’s neck and clutched at his shirt, trying hard to stop crying, but he couldn’t, he _couldn’t–_

“You’re okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Are they gone?”

Tooru nodded.

Iwaizumi let out a long, shaking breath and clutched him tighter. “You’re okay. _Fuck_.”

Tooru’s heart warmed. “You sound like you were worried, Iwa-chan.”

“Of course I was, idiot.”

The police arrived not long after, taking Tooru’s statement and getting the robbers’ descriptions, Iwaizumi never leaving his side. He was checked over quickly for injuries–Iwaizumi swore violently when they pulled Tooru’s shirt down to reveal a purple, mottled bruise on his shoulder–and they were on their way, leaving Tooru and Iwaizumi alone in the house yet again.

“Iwa-chan…” said Tooru, still shaking. He wondered if the lingering fear would ever go away. “I know you need to study, but…”

“Idiot. Like I could study now,” said Iwaizumi. “Pack a bag. You’re staying with me until your parents get back.”

Relief flooded through him and he threw a bag together. He latched himself onto Iwaizumi’s arm and didn’t let go. The walk back to Iwaizumi’s house was quiet, with Tooru more clingy than usual and Iwaizumi not shoving him off like usual.

They got in their pajamas and brushed their teeth. Tooru crawled into Iwaizumi’s bed with a hopeful, scared expression and Iwaizumi let him.

They laid there for a while, neither able to fall asleep.

“ _Gomen ne,_ Tooru.”

Tooru felt his face warm, his name feeling so very intimate with him curled up against Iwaizumi.

“If I had just come over like I’d promised–”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“What the hell, _Kuso_ kawa–”

“I was really scared you know, Iwa-chan,” said Tooru, his voice light, trying to force a smile. “If you’d been there, one of us would have done something stupid. You would’ve tried to protect me and… It’s probably better, that it was just me.”

“You…” Iwaizumi swallowed. “You know how important to me you are, right?”

That was… new. “Iwa–?”

Lips were on his, one of Iwaizumi’s hands curling up to the back of Tooru’s head and pulling him closer, deeper–

Then Iwaizumi pulled away and Tooru was left breathless, his face burning, heart pounding–

His brain stopped working.

The hand came back up to Tooru’s face, and he thought Iwaizumi was going to kiss him again, but instead he pressed his own face into Tooru’s shoulder. “Don’t ever scare me like you did today again.”

Tooru felt tears prickle at his eyes.

“ _Oi_. Are you crying?”

“No,” said Tooru, his voice obviously choked up.

Iwaizumi chuckled and pulled away. “Babykawa,” he said fondly.

Tooru cuddled up next to him, gradually feeling the fear from the evening seep away, feeling safe in Iwaizumi’s arms.


	2. Like a Cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange, awkward moment. “Iwaizumi,” said Kuroo. “I don’t believe half the crap that comes out of Oikawa’s mouth, but if your hugs really are magic, could you please so kindly go in there and hug some sense into him before he lands himself in the hospital?”  
> Worry rose in his chest like a beast, but hang on– “My hugs are what?”

Iwaizumi woke up in a hospital bed.

His brain was foggy. Sluggish. They said it was nothing to worry about, that it was normal, that a month of unconsciousness would do that to you.

He didn’t remember the accident. He remembered running to the bus stop, the bag on his shoulder slamming into his side with each frantic step as he went over the material for the exam in his mind–and that was it. Supposedly, he’d gotten on the bus. Then, said bus had been T-boned at an intersection just two stops away from his university.

The doctors explained to him that he’d hit his head, something about a concussion, blah, blah, blah. He was fine now, free to go. His month under had been plenty of time for his body to heal itself.

It was the strangest thing, stepping out of the hospital knowing that he’d missed an entire month. It was warmer out.

His family cried when they saw him. It was strange. He somehow felt like he should be crying too, that he should have missed them just as much as they missed him, but to him, he’d just seen them last weekend.

His mother explained everything, how his school had granted him a medical leave of absence after the accident, that he could return whenever he was ready, and that they had picked up the bills for his apartment. He’d fallen out of his life, and now everything was ready for him to slip back in like nothing had changed.

Except…

His mother’s brow furrowed. “Have you called Tooru-kun yet?”

Hajime hadn’t. He was hit by a wave of unease. 

He called Oikawa.

“ _Ya-hoooo! This is Oikawa Tooru! I can’t come to the phone right now, but–_ ”

Hajime hung up. He owed Oikawa more than a message left on a machine.

He took the next train to Tokyo.

He’d chatted with Oikawa over Line video _just last night_ ––or at least, what _felt_ like last night–but Oikawa had gone a month without Iwaizumi.

A month. Fuck.

When he got to Oikawa’s apartment, there was already somebody else at the door.

Tall, lanky, bedheaded, a bag of takeout in one hand, their phone at their ear in the other. “Answer your phone, Oikawa!” they shouted, presumably leaving a message, before hanging up. They shoved their phone in their back pocket and knocked _hard_. “I brought food! Open up so I can shove it down your stupid throat!” More knocking. “At least tell me you’re alive in there?”

_Tall, lanky, bedheaded…_

“Kuroo?” said Hajime, pulling the name from somewhere in his memories of video chats with Oikawa of a pain-in-the-ass middle blocker who was just _so mean, Iwa-chan, he teases me constantly!_

The man turned and his eyes went wide. He dropped the takeout. “Iwa-chan?”

Hajime frowned at the sound of that name coming out of a stranger’s mouth, but of course Oikawa’s friends would know him only as _Iwa-chan_ , because why the fuck would Oikawa ever call him anything else?

“You… You’re okay…” Kuroo looked like he’d seen a ghost. Considering they’d never met, Hajime wasn’t sure what he should feel about the visible relief on his face.

“What’s wrong with Oikawa?” asked Hajime, even though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

_One month._

“He hasn’t been coming to classes,” said Kuroo. “Stopped coming to practice a few days ago. Does he know you’re awake?”

“Bastard’s not answering his phone.”

Kuroo let out a strangled little laugh. “Yeah, I know. Listen, Iwa-chan–”

“Iwaizumi.”

A strange, awkward moment. “ _Iwaizumi_ ,” said Kuroo. “I don’t believe half the crap that comes out of Oikawa’s mouth, but if your hugs really are _magic,_ could you please so kindly go in there and hug some sense into him before he lands himself in the hospital?”

Worry rose in his chest like a beast, but _hang on–_ “My hugs are _what_?”

Kuroo smirked, and there, now Hajime could see it, the pain-in-the-ass middle blocker that he had heard so many stories about. “Magic,” he said. “’Like clouds.’”

Anger rose with embarrassment, flushing his face what must have been an impressive shade of red because _what the hell are you telling your friends about me, Kusokawa–_

But worry won out, because _one month._

Hajime approached the door.

“He’s locked himself in,” said Kuroo, but Hajime pulled out a key. “That’s so domestic,” he muttered, his voice light, like it was just adorable and Hajime already wanted to punch him–

But he was there and he was worried and he brought food to take care of Hajime’s best friend so he supposed he could be nice, just this once, and resist the urge.

Hajime opened the door and Kuroo picked up the takeout. They stepped inside, cautious.

The air felt stale, like a window hadn’t been opened in days. All the lights were out. The curtains were shut.

“Oikawa,” called Kuroo, “you won’t believe who I found outside.”

Hajime flicked on a light–

And ran forward, not stopping to remove his shoes at the genkan because Oikawa was _on the floor–_

“Oikawa!”

Had he fallen? Was he hurt?

Oikawa was hot to the touch with fever. He blinked as he blearily looked up at Hajime. “Iwa-chan?” But instead of the joy or relief Hajime expected, he only saw defeat. “I’m–I’m hallucinating. I’m _hallucinating–_ ”

“You’re not hallucinating.” Hajime moved to pull Oikawa up, and Kuroo rushed to help from the other side. They managed to maneuver him into a semi-sitting position, his back leaning against Hajime’s chest. “God, you’re burning up.”

“Tetsu-chan?”

Kuroo’s smile was shaky and weak. “Hey, Oikawa. You look like shit.”

Oikawa huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “I think I’m sick,” he murmured, his eyes falling shut.

“No shit,” said Kuroo.

“I’m seeing… seeing Iwa-chan…”

“That’s cause I’m here, idiot,” said Hajime. “I’m gone for one month and you run yourself into the ground.” Kuroo helped him lift Oikawa onto the couch, and he was light. Lighter than he should have been. “You haven’t been eating.”

Oikawa choked out a laugh. “That’s my Iwa-chan. Such a doting wife.” And then suddenly the laughing was crying, if it had ever been laughter at all.

“Oi, _Kuso_ kawa,” said Hajime, soft, because _one month._ He sat down next to him with a sigh. “I’m okay.”

But Oikawa was lost in his fever, convinced Hajime was a hallucination as he cried.

Hajime rifled through Oikawa’s cabinets in the kitchen until he found the extra strength Tylenol that Oikawa kept for the pain in his knee.

The bottle was unopened.

If Oikawa were a normal person, Hajime might take this to mean that Oikawa’s knee hadn’t been hurting.

Hajime knew better.

He pulled out two pills and filled a glass of water. He grabbed two ice packs from the freezer.

Oikawa’s fridge was empty.

He grabbed Kuroo’s bag of takeout that had been left by the door.

He returned to Oikawa’s side and held out the pills and water. Oikawa took them obediently. He placed an ice pack on Oikawa’s right knee and stopped him from setting the water down. “Drink all of it.”

Oikawa did.

Hajime opened the takeout and held out one of the cartons with a set of chopsticks. “Eat something.”

Oikawa did.

Kuroo just watched. Hajime felt like he was being examined under a microscope.

When Oikawa had eaten all he could, Hajime took back the carton and helped him lie down on the couch, draping a blanket over him.

Oikawa’s lower lip trembled.

“Hey,” said Hajime, his voice soft. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Iwa-chan.”

“I’m right here. Get some rest, _Kuso_ kawa.”

“ _Iwa-chan_.”

Hajime ran his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, and the setter finally seemed to relax. His eyelids drooped. A tear slid down Oikawa’s nose as he fell asleep.

Hajime slumped. “Damn it, Tooru _._ ”

“You really are a magical cloud.”

“Fuck you.”

Kuroo laughed, but quickly sobered. “Thank you. I know he’s your friend, and you didn’t do this for me, but… Thank you for helping him. I’ve been _–_ The team has– We’ve been really worried.”

Hajime felt a pull in his chest and his eyes stung, but he held it back. He wasn’t going to cry in front of Kuroo.

“You’ve got a look on your face.”

Hajime glared.

“Iwaizumi.”

“What if I’d died?” he asked, staring at Oikawa’s face, flushed with fever. “If something happens to me… He won’t take care of himself. He _doesn’t_ take care of himself. I just…”

The thought of going down and taking Oikawa with him…

“So don’t fucking die.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” snapped Hajime.

“Then that’s that.”

“It’s _not_. What if–”

“Stop.” Kuroo held a hand up. “You’re his best friend. Losing you would mess him up. You don’t have to like it, it’s just a fact of life. If something happened to Kenma–” But that thought was too much. “No. Shit. See? Don’t think about that stuff. It’ll mess you up.” He stood. “I’m gonna head home. Tell the shithead to call me when he’s feeling better.” Kuroo leaned down for an awkward hug, and it was so unexpected that Hajime just let it happen. “Like a cloud,” Kuroo muttered in his ear.

Hajime did punch him that time.

Kuroo left, and Hajime settled himself in for the long haul.

A shower and five episodes of _Gundam_ later, Oikawa stirred. His fever had gone down, but Hajime switched out the ice pack on his forehead just in case.

Oikawa’s eyes cracked open. He stared at Hajime. And stared. Then his eyes went wide and he lurched forward, sitting up. “Iwa-chan!?”

Hajime smirked. “Still think I’m a hallucination?”

Oikawa’s eyes watered.

“Oh, no, don’t you start–”

Oikawa launched himself at Hajime, clinging to him like a baby koala in his tears.

“You’re getting your snot on me, _Kuso_ kawa.”

“Iwa-chan! You’re here!”

“You finally lucid?”

A nod.

“Good.” Hajime pulled at Oikawa’s ear, who yelped, pulling away with a frown.

“Ouch! Iwa-chan, what–?”

“That’s for being a _moron_ and not taking care of yourself!” Oikawa pouted, and Hajime flicked him on the forehead. “That’s for making your new team worry.” He moved to jab a finger into Oikawa’s side–

Oikawa snatched his hand out of the air. “Stop it!”

“Kuroo said you’ve been skipping classes, and practice? What the hell, Oikawa? You’re here on a scholarship. Why would you be so _stupid–_ ”

“Iwa-chan almost died!” shouted Oikawa. “I called _every day._ Every day, they said you didn’t wake up, and the longer it took, the chances of you ever waking up went down and I thought… _I thought_ …”

“Don’t cry,” said Hajime. “ _Tooru._ I’m sorry.”

“Iwa-chan has no idea. No idea that he is the most important person in the world to Oikawa-san,” said Oikawa, pointedly avoiding his gaze, his cheeks pinking.

Hajime swallowed. “I need you to promise me something. Tooru. Look at me. I need you to promise that if anything ever happens to me, you won’t do this again. You’ll take care of yourself–”

Oikawa shook his head, frowning. “Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Incentive. So _you_ take care of _your_ self, Iwa-chan.”

“You are such a shitty person. What the hell kind of narcissist thinks this would motivate me any more than my own desire to _not fucking die_ in the first place?”

“Does it?”

Hajime grit his teeth.

Oikawa grinned. “Good.”

“You are such an ass.”

“Hajime.”

Hajime started.

Oikawa’s gaze was heavy. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Shit. What were words? “Thanks,” he managed. “And… you too. The thing from before.”

“Hm?”

Hajime looked away, and he felt the heat rise into his cheeks. “You’re the most important person to me, too.”

A moment.

Then Oikawa lit up, his grin stretching wide and his eyes sparkling and Hajime regretted all of his life choices.

“Oikawa-san is Iwa-chan’s most favorite person!” Oikawa crooned.

“I take it back.”

Oikawa shook his head, the blinding grin not dimming in the slightest. “You can’t take it back! Iwa-chan loves Oikawa-san!”

“You are such trash.”

But at that, Oikawa’s grin just softened, into something more tender, something more understanding, and Hajime knew why, damn it, because he hadn’t exactly denied that last statement.

Oikawa hugged him, and Hajime relaxed into the hug.

Oh yeah, about that…

Hajime jabbed at Oikawa’s side, who jolted with a cry. “What’s this I hear from Kuroo about you telling everyone I hug like a cloud?”

Oikawa snorted. “That’s not quite right–”

“ _Oikawa!_ ”

“Okay, okay! You just–You give the best hugs. They’re really nice. Like…”

“Like a cloud?”

Embarrassment looked good on Oikawa.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Iwa-chan!” cried Oikawa.

So Hajime hugged him again.


	3. Cold Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d been in enough one night stands to recognize one: leaving the house, knowing full-well that night’s conquest would be gone by the time you returned. A clean break, avoiding the awkward encounter and unwanted conversation.

For a moment upon waking, Tooru thought it had all been a dream.

But no. He ran his fingers along the sheets that were softer, thinner than his own. He pressed his face into the pillow and inhaled. It smelled like him. _Iwa-chan._

Last night had really happened.

He’d been in love with his best friend forever, and had long since given up on Iwaizumi ever feeling the same way about him, but last night–

_Last night…_

Tooru shifted and felt the familiar ache deep within him. Iwaizumi had _railed_ him. They’d started gentle, but Tooru hadn’t been satisfied by that pace for long and quickly degraded into hurried desperation because he’d waited so long and he’d never wanted anything more and he wanted to _feel it_ –

He’d never orgasmed so hard in his life.

The sex was _fantastic_ , and Iwaizumi was… _everything._

Tooru stretched, the dawn of morning light through the window encroaching through his eyelids. He reached absently for the other side of the bed–

And came up with nothing but cold sheets.

Tooru jolted upright, the midnight blue fabric falling down to his naked hips. He was alone in the bed. Heart beating impossibly fast, Tooru scrambled to retrieve his underwear from the floor and pulled them on along with his T-shirt.

He checked the bathroom. No Iwaizumi taking a shower. He checked the living area, then the kitchen. No Iwaizumi watching TV, and a disturbing lack of Iwaizumi’s making breakfast.

A disturbing lack of Iwaizumi’s all around.

Tooru took several deep breaths because he’d thought–

_He’d thought–_

But he’d been in enough one night stands to recognize one: leaving the house, knowing full-well that night’s conquest would be gone by the time you returned. A clean break, avoiding the awkward encounter and unwanted conversation.

Tooru blinked back the burn of tears in his eyes and quickly finished getting dressed. He managed to make it two blocks from Iwaizumi’s apartment before he started crying. People stared at him at the train station as he stood on the platform, sniffling and hugging himself. Even despite the tears, he knew he looked like shit. He hadn’t wanted to risk being at the apartment when Iwaizumi returned, so he’d skipped his usual routine. His hair was flat and lifeless, and his clothes were wrinkled from the day before. It was an honest-to-God walk of shame, a walk he’d made many times before, but never had he actually felt like such _trash–_

Had he known last night would be his only knight with Iwaizumi, he would’ve slowed down. He would have savored it, but he’d been impatient and selfish as usual, and now he’d never get to experience it again, the feel of him, the heat, the belonging–

Tooru buried his face in his hands as the train rocked him into a lull. His apartment was only a twenty minute ride from Iwaizumi’s, a result of meticulous planning on Tooru’s part. He’d made up some bullshit about not minding the commute to University if he got to live in his spacious studio apartment away from the hustle of downtown, but the truth was, his place was in a shitty part of town and overpriced.

But it was near the train station, Iwaizumi within reach, every day if he wanted–

Tooru felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and ignored it. Even if he could stomach talking to whoever was on the other line, he wouldn’t be able to steady the waver in his voice. They’d know something was wrong immediately.

By the time the train reached his stop, Tooru’s tears had run dry, leaving his cheeks feeling stiff and his throat sore. He was halfway to his apartment when his phone vibrated again and he changed course. Kuroo’s apartment was closer to campus, so it was an outrageous distance to walk, but Tooru knew what he wanted.

To get shitfaced.

He knew he wasn’t the most responsible of people when it came to self-care, but he wasn’t an idiot. The amount of alcohol he planned on consuming required a babysitter, and Kuroo might be an ass about it, but he’d make sure Tooru got home safe.

He’d apparently overestimated Tokyo traffic. Having assumed the majority of his commute on the bus had been dedicated to sitting at a stand-still, he hadn’t thought walking to Kuroo’s would take _three hours._ By the time he arrived, he was hungry, he was sweating, his feet hurt, and he was still fucking _heartbroken_.

Kuroo took one look at him and pulled him inside, getting him a glass of water and sitting him down on the couch. Tooru drank greedily.

“You wanna talk about it?” asked Kuroo, some mix of amused and concerned.

“I wanna get drunk. Take me out, Tetsu-chan.”

And that was that. Kuroo took him to the nearest bar, claimed a booth in the corner, and offered to pay for his first drink.

“Strawberry daiquiri,” Tooru demanded.

Kuroo’s brow quirked. “This is a bar, Oikawa, not one of your fancy brunch restaurants. Pick something they have the ingredients for?”

Tooru pursed his lips. “Cosmopolitan.”

Kuroo chuckled. “Of fucking course.”

Six cosmopolitan’s later, Tooru was right where he wanted to be: absolutely fucking shitfaced. His phone hadn’t stopped vibrating since he’d left Iwaizumi’s, and Tooru was tempted to throw it across the room. He didn’t want to _talk_ , couldn’t they take the fucking hint? He pulled out his phone to shout at whatever idiot was calling him–

And Kuroo easily plucked it out of his fingers. “Not a good idea,” he said.

“Give it back,” Tooru whined. “They’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re not getting it back,” said Kuroo. “You’ll thank me tomorrow when whoever this is doesn’t hate you.”

“Don’t care,” Tooru mumbled, slumping to rest his head on the table.

“You’ll care tomorrow.”

“I won’t. Won’t care about anything ever again.”

Kuroo sighed. “You gonna tell me what happened yet?”

“You’re trying to take advantage of me. ‘Cause I’m drunk. Trying to steal all my secrets.”

“You’re hardly the ‘secrets’ type,” said Kuroo. “I’ve never seen you hold your tongue for anybody.”

“Only Iwa-chan.”

“That seems to be a recurring theme with you.”

“Always Iwa-chan…”

“Something happen between you two?”

Tooru opened his mouth to deny it only to start crying.

“Shit. I should get you home–”

“No,” said Tooru, sniffling, thinking of his stupid, empty apartment. “I don’t wanna leave yet. Please. Please, can we… stay for a little longer?”

Kuroo frowned, his brows coming together in concern, and his expression looked so much like one of Iwaizumi’s in that moment–

Tooru stood, his stomach rolling. “Bathroom.” He stumbled his way to the bathroom, making it into the stall just in time to taste his cosmopolitans a second time.

He sat on the bathroom floor for a while, lacking the drive and the dignity to return to Kuroo, who came to check on him every five minutes.

Everything was ruined. He and Iwaizumi wouldn’t survive this. Tooru had ignored his feelings for so long because he knew, he knew they would ruin everything. He shouldn’t have let last night happen, because now that it had, there was no way he could go back to just being Iwaizumi’s friend, not now that he knew what it felt like to have more, to have _all_ of him–

Their friendship was over. The most important relationship in his life was over, all because he couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants.

No.

No, he was overestimating himself. He didn’t have the will to cut ties with Iwaizumi. He didn’t want to. He knew what was going to happen. He would try to move on, to look past it, the one night stand and the heartbreak, to act normal, to be normal, to stay Iwaizumi’s best friend, and it would kill him.

Tooru eventually left the bathroom, ready to go home, having accepted the inevitable–

And froze.

Because there, sitting across from Kuroo, was Iwaizumi.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck–

He couldn’t act normal, not yet–

He needed a few days, _at least_ , to stop crying, to glue his mask back together, to be able to craft some guise of happiness–

Tooru turned, letting his momentum carry him away from Iwaizumi and Kuroo, deeper into the bar. He stumbled a bit, still drunk off his ass, and was caught by a steady hand.

“Thanks,” he muttered, but the grip didn’t leave his arm.

Hot, alcoholic breath on his ear. Warmth of a body against him in places it shouldn’t be. “How ‘bout I let you thank me somewhere in private, beautiful?”

Tooru tried to pull away. “Let go.”

Hands on him, touching, making his skin crawl, a new bout of tears because this was wrong wrong wrong–

“ _Please stop–_ ”

A fist came flying out of nowhere and the guy’s grip on him disappeared. Sounds and colors were blurring together, but Tooru would recognize that angry scowl anywhere. “He said let go, you piece of shit.”

Tooru could feel himself trembling, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the fear, the alcohol, or seeing Iwaizumi again. “Iwa-chan…” It tumbled from his mouth without his permission, a statement, or a plea.

Iwaizumi’s face softened as he gently took Tooru’s hand and tugged him away and out of the bar. Tooru vaguely registered Kuroo’s presence at their side, his gaze a worried mess, but it was all overshadowed by the feeling of Iwaizumi’s warm fingers wrapped around his own. He sniffled, and the fingers tightened.

Kuroo and Iwaizumi exchanged quiet words before parting ways. Next thing Tooru knew, he was being helped into the back of a cab. He watched in confusion as Iwaizumi climbed in after him.

The ride was a silent one. All Tooru could concentrate on were those fingers, so warm around his own.

They arrived outside Tooru’s apartment, and he found that his legs wouldn’t cooperate. After stumbling and nearly smashing his face into the ground, Iwaizumi tucked his arms under Tooru’s knees and behind his shoulders, carrying him up the stairs to his front door. Tooru held on tight, his face pressed into Iwaizumi’s chest, savoring it.

There was an awkward moment of Tooru fumbling for his keys as Iwaizumi held him in his arms before they were finally inside. Tooru bit his lip, not wanting to say goodbye–

Except Iwaizumi didn’t say goodbye. He carried Tooru to the couch and set him down. He brushed a hand through Tooru’s hair before disappearing, only to return with a large glass of water.

“Drink.”

Tooru drank.

They sat in silence for a while, miles packed into those few inches between them, before Iwaizumi turned to him, his face determined. “You were gone when I got back.”

Tooru could feel himself shrink. He clutched his arms around himself and stared at the floor. “Kind of counterproductive of you, Iwa-chan,” he muttered. “I thought you wanted to avoid this conversation.”

“What _?_ Oikawa, _what_ are you talking about? Why the hell did you leave?”

Tooru felt the jolt of hurt tear through him. “ _You_ left _me._ ”

“I had class, _Kuso_ kawa,” he said. “Since when do you wake up before noon on your day off? Do you wanna tell me what was going through your head that made you take the train home, _walk_ to Kuroo’s, and drink yourself under the table to the point that you _couldn’t fucking defend yourself you absolute moron–_ ”

He started crying again.

A sigh. “ _Tooru_. Talk to me. Did I do something wrong? Did you… regret last night–”

Tooru cried harder. Iwaizumi gathered him into his arms. “Please stop crying.”

“Iwa-chan left me,” he cried.

“I said I had class–”

“I’ve loved you forever, but you only wanted one night, and that’s okay–”

“What the hell? Who said I only wanted one night?”

“I know a one night stand when I see one, Iwa-chan. I’ll be fine, I promise, I just need some time, just give me some time, _please_ , don’t leave me, I promise, I’ll get over it–”

“You thought–?” A look of horror passed over Iwaizumi’s face. He cupped Tooru’s face in his hands. “Tooru, look at me and let me say this very clear. I want more than one night. I want _everything_ with you.” He tucked Tooru back into his chest. “You always sleep in. I thought I’d be back before– I _never_ wanted you to think– I’m so sorry, Tooru.”

Iwaizumi held him for a long time. Tooru must’ve eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up in his own bed with a headache to end all headaches. He groaned and rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow.

It only smelled like him. The sheets were his own. He stretched a hand out–

The rest of the bed was empty.

Tooru’s mind felt fuzzy. Why did he feel like someone had taken a mallet to his head? He hadn’t drank this much in a long time. He dragged himself out of bed, surprised to find himself in his outer space pajamas. He didn’t remember putting them on.

He shuffled out of his room, forced to leave his sanctuary before he died of dehydration. The windows were dark. What the hell? What time was it?

Tooru’s eyes caught on the lump on the couch and he froze. _Iwaizumi was asleep on his couch._

And it all came back to him.

The sex. Waking up alone. Walking to Kuroo’s. Getting drunk. Getting harassed by some asshole. Iwaizumi _punching said asshole in the face_ –

Tooru continued into the kitchen, his eyes wide. He filled a glass with water and chugged it, quickly refilling it and downing that, too.

“You feeling better?”

Tooru spun around, glass clutched tight in his hand. “Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi frowned, looking him over. “You remember what happened?”

Tooru felt his face flush. He nodded.

“So you know that you weren’t a one night stand?”

Tooru looked at the floor and nodded.

“ _Fuck_ , Tooru, how could you think that? I’ve been in love with you for years.”

His head snapped back up. “You love me?”

Iwaizumi’s face went red. “Well, I mean– Obviously, _Trashy_ kawa. _Baka_ kawa. _Boke_ kawa.”

Tooru let out a relieved laugh. “Don’t balance out your confession with insults, Iwa-chan, that’s so mean!”

Iwaizumi huffed. “So you’re feeling better?”

“Much better,” said Tooru.

“Then _what the hell were you thinking_?” he snapped. “If I hadn’t been there, who knows what that guy would’ve done? I can’t believe you were so _stupid–_ ”

“I brought Tetsu-chan with me,” snipped Tooru.

“Fat lot of good he was,” said Iwaizumi. That wasn’t fair, but Iwaizumi seemed to realize that as he sighed. “You know how you get with alcohol. What if that guy had tried to take it further? You need to be more careful. God, you worry the hell out of me.”

Tooru grinned. “Because you love me?”

An exasperated sigh.

“Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chaaaaaan–”

“Because I love you, _Trashy_ kawa! Now, fuck off!”

“ _Ne_ , Iwa-chan?”

“What?” he snapped.

“I’m glad it wasn’t a one night stand.”

“Like it would be, idiot.”

“How’d you find me?”

“If you’d ever bother to answer your fucking phone, you’d have known it wasn’t a one night stand from the start.”

Ah. “Tetsu-chan?”

“I was already at your apartment looking for you. The bar wasn’t that far.”

“I beg to differ.”

“I’m not an idiot who thought it would be fun to _walk_ there.”

“Iwa-chan…”

“Hm?”

“I’m _really glad_ it wasn’t a one night stand.”

“Don’t you start crying again.”

Tooru sniffed. “I’m not.”

Iwaizumi approached with an annoyed huff, but Tooru could always tell when he was putting up a front. He held open his arms and Tooru melted into them. 


	4. A Normal Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They already know I’m not straight, Oikawa. This probably won’t even be much of a surprise.”  
> “They know you’re bi, Iwa-chan,” said Tooru. “That’s a big difference to parents who are still holding out for grandkids.”

“ _Oi_ ,” said Iwaizumi. “Don’t be so nervous. My parents love you.”

“That was before they knew we were dating,” said Tooru, biting at his nails.

Iwaizumi pulled Tooru’s fingers away from his mouth. “They already know I’m not straight, Oikawa. This probably won’t even be much of a surprise.”

“They know you’re _bi_ , Iwa-chan,” said Tooru. “That’s a big difference to parents who are still holding out for grandkids.”

“Who says we can’t have kids?”

Tooru instantly felt choked up. “Wait! Don’t knock yet, I’m not ready!”

“Are you crying?”

“No!”

“God, you’re embarrassing.” With his face turned away to hide his pink cheeks, Iwaizumi patted Tooru on the back.

“You can’t just say things like that,” said Tooru, sniffling. “I’ve been conditioned my entire life to expect rude, grumpy Iwa-chan. I don’t have any defenses against you when you’re _nice_!”

“I’m nice to you all the time, _Kuso_ kawa.”

Tooru pointed. “Lies!”

Iwaizumi snorted and lifted his hand again to knock. “You ready, crybaby?”

Tooru harrumphed. “We’ll see if you get sex tonight.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and rapped his knuckles against the door.

Kazumi Iwaizumi answered the door, and her dark eyes, so like her son’s, lit up. “Hajime! _Okaeri!_ ”

“ _Tadaima_ ,” said Iwaizumi, giving her a hug.

“ _Tadaima!_ ” crooned Tooru.

“Tooru-kun!” she cried, pulling him down into a hug. “How’s college been treating you? And living with Hajime? I hope he hasn’t been bullying you too much.”

“No more than usual,” said Tooru, grinning. “Although he does make studying difficult sometimes, always whining for attention while I’m working. I’ve learned to live with it–”

Iwaizumi snorted. “You are such trash.”

“Be nice to Tooru-kun, Hajime.”

Tooru’s grin stretched too big for his face. “Yeah, _Hajime_ , be nice to Tooru-kun.”

Dinner was nice. Touma Iwaizumi was a broad, tough-looking man with a stiff jaw and a harsh brow, but it was all a front (just like with Iwa-chan). He liked toffee candies and shounen anime, he called his wife _Zumi-Zumi_ and he’d once built Tooru and Iwaizumi an entire fort out of cardboard boxes.

“So, Oikawa-kun, does our son have a secret girlfriend he’s not telling us about?” asked Touma, and Tooru froze. “He’s been awful cheerful lately.”

“I… ah…”

“That’s–” Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about that.”

Kazumi practically _shined_. “Hajime! Do you have a girlfriend!?”

“Not exactly.”

“A crush, then! Is she pretty? Ooh, Tooru-kun, tell me, is she pretty? Will I like her?”

Tooru’s face went stark white.

Iwaizumi grabbed his hand under the table. “I do have a boyfriend, and _he_ is very pretty.” Kazumi blinked, and Touma frowned. “Good news, though,” said Iwaizumi, gripping Tooru’s hand tighter. “You’ve already met him, and you do like him. Very much.”

“I… don’t understand,” said Kazumi.

“It’s Tooru.”

Silence.

Tooru’s entire body went cold. Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell. Was anybody breathing? Had he gone deaf?

“Oh!” said Kazumi, trying to sound excited and not quite managing it. “ _Tooru-kun_! That’s– That’s _great–_ ”

“Hang on,” said Touma, and Kazumi’s mouth clicked shut. “I thought you liked girls.”

“I told you,” said Iwaizumi, some frustration leaking into his tone. “I’m _bi_.”

“But you’ve only ever dated girls.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like guys.” 

“No,” said Touma, shaking his head. “You told us you were bi, and that was fine. It is fine. But Hajime, you’ve never _actually_ liked a guy.”

“I like Tooru.”

“So you don’t like _boys_ ,” said Touma. “You just like Oikawa.”

“That’s not–” Iwaizumi huffed. “You’re not understanding me–”

“You’re right, I don’t understand,” said Touma, standing. “I don’t understand how my son, who up until this point has been normal, is suddenly _gay–_ ”

“I’m not gay, and it’s not sudden,” snapped Iwaizumi, standing as well, pulling Tooru with him–

Revealing their hands clasped together. 

“How long has this been going on?” asked Touma.

“Two years.”

“So, since you started living together.” Touma rounded the table and on Tooru. “You. What the hell did you do to my son?”

Iwaizumi tucked Tooru behind him and went chest-to-chest with his father. “ _Don’t_ yell at him. Tooru didn’t do anything.”

“He turned you gay! He’s ruining your chance at a normal life! Marriage. Kids. Think legality, Hajime. Think _practicality_. Job prospects. If you like _any_ girls, at all, you should be with a girl.”

Tooru was trembling and he knew Iwaizumi could feel it in their joint hands.

“I don’t give a fuck about a _normal life_ ,” Iwaizumi snarled.

“Hajime!” cried Kazumi.

“I want a life with Tooru.”

“Do you hear yourself? I should have stopped this years ago,” said Touma.

“What?”

“This. The two of you. He’s always been too attached to you. With the hanging all over you and the sleepovers and the phone calls and the nicknames– You’re goddamn adults. Had I known he was like _that_ , I never would have led you stay friends in the first place.”

“ _Let_ me?”

“It all makes sense, now,” said Touma. “He’s been in love with you, this whole time, playing the long game. Putting these stupid ideas into your head–”

“It was never a game.” All eyes went to Tooru. He wiped his eyes before settling a glare on Touma. “I have loved your son forever. But I didn’t _trick him_. I didn’t even _tell_ him. _He_ confessed to _me._ ”

“You _ruined him_.”

“I said don’t fucking talk to him like that–”

“ _Don’t_ speak to me with that tone, Hajime–”

“We’re just confused, Sweetheart,” said Kazumi. “You move in with Tooru-kun, you tell us you’re bi, then you have a secret relationship for two years? I just– You’re supposed to talk to us regarding the important decisions in your life–”

“Being bi isn’t a _decision!_ ”

“But throwing your life away for this _fag_ –

Iwaizumi practically snarled in Touma’s face. “Fucking say that again–”

“I will not stand for this disrespect in _my house–_ ”

“Fuck you!”

Tooru had spent years playfully dodging Iwaizumi’s playfully violent tendencies, and Touma’s body, about the same build, moved much the same. The tensing of the shoulders, the planting of the feet, the wide swing–

It was a simple matter, really, shoving Iwaizumi out of the way.

There was a solid _thwack_ across Tooru’s face.

“ _Tooru!_ ”

Some of the rage seemed to clear from Touma’s face. Tooru tasted blood.

“Oh, God, _Tooru,_ ” said Iwaizumi. “ _Fuck_.” He grabbed one of the dinner napkins from the table and pressed it to Tooru’s nose, quickly staining it red.

“Hajime,” said Touma, something like regret in his eyes–

“ _Don’t talk to me_.”

Touma closed his mouth. Kazumi started crying.

Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around Tooru, pulling him into his side and towards the front door.

“Hajime,” said Kazumi, reaching out–

“I said _don’t_.”

They left.

Once the house was out of sight, Iwaizumi seemed to sag and sat Tooru down at the bench at the empty bus stop. He kneeled in front of him. “What the hell’d you do that for?” he asked softly.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru whined.

“I know,” said Iwaizumi, brushing his thumb over the cheekbone that wasn’t steadily bruising in front of his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tooru.”

Tooru shook his head, keeping the bloodied napkin pressed to his nose.

“You were right. Dinner was a bad idea.”

“Hajime, _I’m sorry–_ ” For everything. For taking away Iwaizumi’s his life. For making his parents hate him.

“ _Oi_ , what’s that brain of yours thinking right now?” asked Iwaizumi. His face softened. “We’ve talked about this. The thoughts you’re afraid to tell me are usually ones you know I won’t agree with.”

“I want to go home,” Tooru sniffled.

Iwaizumi pulled Tooru in a hug. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be sorry. Not for this.” He cupped Tooru’s face. “I love you.”

Tooru gave a wobbly smile. “I guess you can have sex tonight.”

Iwaizumi let out a laugh that was half strangled. “God, you are such trash. Come on,” he said, taking Tooru’s hand. “Let’s go home.”


	5. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think something’s really wrong,” said Tooru, soft.  
> “Why–” Hajime’s voice broke. “Why are you saying that? I told you not to lie to me, Tooru, if you’re hiding something–”  
> “I’m not!”  
> “Then what makes you think that?”  
> “I…” How could he explain the icy cage constricting around his heart? “It’s just a feeling.”

Hajime was at the end of his rope. He’d forgotten the bento Tooru made for him on the counter that morning, and he hadn’t had time to go out during his lunch break since he’d found out his intern had been filing paperwork wrong for two weeks. Hajime had to call each patient personally to clear up the insurance mix-ups. After getting yelled at all day on the phone, he’d had a session with his least favorite patient: a seventeen-year-old baseball pitcher who came in once a week for physical therapy on his shoulder. The kid didn’t listen, and he was going to blow out his shoulder permanently if he didn’t stop overworking it. 

It made Hajime think about Tooru ruining his knee in college, and thinking about Tooru during that time always made Hajime anxious. He wanted to go home and check that he was okay, that his knee might still be fucked up but he wasn’t spiraling into the dark place anymore.

Hajime stayed at the office an extra two hours going over all of his intern’s work. His stomach twisted and grumbled its impatience. He sighed when he finished and locked up the office, pulling out his phone on his way to the car.

 _“Yahooooo! This is Oikawa Tooru. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message, kay?”_ Beep.

“ _Oi, Kuso_ kawa,” said Hajime, getting in his car and starting the engine, “you’d better not be out with Mattsun and Makki. I’m tired of dealing with your drunk ass when you guys hang out.” But he didn’t mind it so much. Not really. “I’m leaving work now. See you soon.”

His office was only a fifteen minute drive to the apartment he and Tooru shared on the outskirts of Tokyo. It was already dark out, his entire day having been sapped away working cooped up in the office. He didn’t usually mind work. Helping athletes recover from injuries was cathartic for him. He’d never be able to make up for not being able to help Tooru back in college, but at least he could keep it from happening to someone else.

Sometimes his job was stressful. Talking to patients on the phone about money and insurance was never fun, but kids like the one today were the most stressful. Kids who could get better if they just _listened_ , if they would take care of themselves. Kids like–

Tooru always got a painful look on his face when Hajime brought them up at home. Hindsight was a funny thing. Tooru might not be able to play volleyball anymore, and he might still wake up on the bad nights, clutching at his knee, but he was happy now. For a while, Hajime had worried Tooru would never bounce back. After he’d blown out his knee, Tooru’s mind had turned toxic, and Hajime had been terrified he’d lose him forever.

But Hajime had gotten through to him. And Mattsun and Makki helped, of course. And Kuroo, and Bokuto, and Tooru’s sister–everyone. They all came together to get Tooru back on his feet, but the real saving grace had been Tooru’s professor. Tooru may have been at college for volleyball, but he still had to have a major, so, like the overambitious, overworking idiot he was, he’d picked _astrophysics_. It had always been a hobby of his, something fun to do while he pursued his true passion–but after the injury, after weeks of spiraling and pulling away and closing himself off and terrible, terrifying, self-destructive behavior, Tooru came back from class with a spark in his eyes.

“Iwa-chan,” he’d said. His body was at its limit, his skin pallid, his posture slumped, his waist too thin, but his eyes–they were _alive,_ for the first time in months. “Did you know that there’s a giant body of water in space? 140 _trillion_ times the amount of water in our oceans. _In space, Iwa-chan!_ Just floating in zero gravity!”

It took time, and several relapses, but Tooru started to get better. He started eating again. The first time he asked Hajime to pick him up some milk bread, Hajime cried. He started going out with friends again. He brought his grades up. He stopped sleeping so much. He stopped avoiding calls from his mom.

He started to get better.

And now he had a research tenure position at a respectable university teaching astronomy. He was their youngest professor ever, and now he was their youngest professor to ever receive tenure. His students loved him.

Hajime loved him.

But that was hardly a new development.

Hajime waited at the stoplight, wondering at all the traffic that late in the evening. It was already dark, the usual rush should be over–

He rounded the corner and saw it: his– _their_ –apartment–

Surrounded by firetrucks and ambulances and a crowd of people–

Half of the five-floor building had collapsed.

 _Tooru_.

Hajime parked along the side of the road–probably illegal–and frantically dialed Tooru again as he leapt out of the car. _“Yahooooo! This is Oikawa Tooru. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message, kay?”_

“I swear to God, Oikawa, you’d better be out with Makki and Mattsun–” his voice broke as he jogged across the street, his whole body shaking. “If you’re in there… Dammit, Tooru! Answer your goddamn phone!” He hung up and ran up towards the building, towards the giant slabs of concrete and broken glass and rebar–

He was stopped by a short policeman who looked too young to be on the force when he tried to duck under the caution tape. “Sir, you can’t come in here!”

“My partner,” said Hajime, and his voice was shaking, “he might be in there, please–”

“You live here?”

“Was anyone inside?” Hajime asked. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Sir, you need to breathe.”

Fuck, Hajime didn’t care about _breathing_ , where the fuck was Tooru?

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Iwaizumi.”

“All right, Iwaizumi-san, you see that man over there? That’s Toritsuka-san. He’s in charge of the rescue efforts. If your partner is in there, he’s gonna do everything he can to get him out. Now sit tight and I’ll see what I can find out. What’s your partner’s name?”

“Oikawa. Tooru. His… his name is Tooru. He’s…” he held up a shaking hand, “about this tall, with brown hair, and brown eyes. Real skinny. He, uh… he’s real loud and annoying, so you’ll… you’ll probably hear him…”

“I’ll see if anyone’s seen him.”

The man jogged off, and Hajime felt like he was floating. Like none of it was real. Like it was all happening to somebody else.

A shock of white hair drew Hajime’s eye. Sat in the back of an ambulance with a bandage on her forehead, a box in her lap, and a blanket around her shoulders, was Ryoki-san, the old woman from the apartment next to theirs that liked to have them over for tea and to pet her cats. An EMT hovered over her. Hajime shoved his way through the crowd until he reached her.

“Hajime-kun,” said Ryoki, her steady, gravelly voice calming something within Hajime.

“Riyoki-san. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, waving at her forehead. “I was lucky.”

Three cats peeked their heads out of the box to look at Hajime.

“Riyoki-san,” said Hajime, “I can’t get ahold of Tooru. Do you know if he was home?”

Riyoki’s face fell. “Oh, Hajime, Dear, he was home.”

Hajime’s stomach dropped. He was going to be sick.

“I passed him on my way out. He was going downstairs to do laundry. I only just made it outside before I was knocked over from the explosion–”

“ _Explosion–!?_ ”

“One of the gas lines blew,” said Riyoki-san, and the air grew thick with molasses as the rest of her words didn’t reach him.

Tooru had been going downstairs to do laundry. Downstairs. To the basement. So he was either crushed from the building collapse, or he was trapped underground.

Hajime didn’t think. His feet were moving. He ducked under the caution tape. People shouted. Someone grabbed him, pulled him back, away from the rubble, _away from Tooru_ –

“That’s him?”

“That’s him.”

“Iwaizumi-san. _Iwaizumi-san_.” A fireman’s uniform. A dirty face. Kind eyes. “You’re looking for your partner, Oikawa Tooru?” It was the fireman in charge–Toritsuka-san. He was tall, with dark hair and an old burn scar down the side of his neck.

“Tooru?”

Toritsuka nodded. “Are you sure he was inside when it happened?”

“I– Yes, Ryoki-san said he was in the basement.”

Toritsuka exchanged a look with the young policeman that Hajime had run into earlier.

Hajime did not like that look. “There’s… He’s… He could be fine, right?”

Toritsuka’s brow furrowed into a look that Hajime recognized. It was the same one he wore when he had to tell his patients that the physical therapy wasn’t working, that surgery was the only option, that the months of pain and hard work had been for _nothing–_

“Chief!” called one of the firemen, jogging over from the rubble to address Toritsuka. “We think we found another survivor.”

Hajime’s heart did a painful lurch.

“What’s their condition?” asked Toritsuka, turning away from Hajime.

“We don’t know. We need to set up some form of communication. They’re banging on the pipes.”

“What’s their position?”

_Please. Please, God, let it be Tooru. Let him be okay._

“They’re underground.”

Fuck. _Fuck._

“It’s unstable,” said the fireman. “We think we can get a path big enough for one person, but we’ll have to fortify the area with cribbing before it’s safe enough–”

“I’ll go,” said Iwaizumi. “I don’t care about cribs or whatever, I’ll do it–”

Toritsuka grimaced. “Iwaizumi-san–”

“It’s Tooru,” said Hajime, “it has to be him. I have to go in there, he’s– he’s probably scared–”

“ _Iwaizumi-san_ ,” said Toritsuka, “I cannot let an untrained civilian enter a compromised structure.”

“You have to–”

“Are you going to cause trouble for me, Son? Because I will have you escorted from the premises.”

Hajime’s hands wouldn’t stop _shaking–_

“I know you’re worried for your partner, and I promise, we’re doing everything we can to get him out, but you have to trust me. We don’t know if this is him, but if it is, we’ll get to him, and if it isn’t, we’ll keep looking. This is what we do. I’m going to send my best man in to see what we’re dealing with. Is that okay with you, or is my friend with the badge going to have to ask you to leave?” Said ‘friend’ being the shorty who didn’t reach Hajime’s _shoulder–_

But Toritsuka was right.

His mouth dry, Hajime croaked out an “Okay.”

“Good.” Toritsuka turned and called to a tall man in a fireman’s uniform with an impossibly broad back. “Ushijima!”

Fucking _what?_

The man turned, and Ushijima Wakatoshi looked the same as he had in high school, only having somehow managed to get even bigger, broader, and _taller_.

Fuck.

Tooru was going to have a fucking conniption. Just the thought of him griping about _Ushiwaka_ being the one to save him–the complaining, the ever present grudge, the disdain, the stubborn, reluctant gratitude–

Hajime hoped he would get to hear it. He’d listen to Tooru complain every day for the rest of his life if he got out of this okay.

Ushijima looked surprised to see him. “Iwaizumi?”

“Ushijima.” Shit. Tooru was the one with the grudge, but maybe Hajime wasn’t as over their constant, bitter defeat to Shiratorizawa as he’d hoped. He tried to smooth out his tone. Ushijima was there to help, and it had been over ten years, for Christ’s sake. “Ushijima,” he said again, softer. “It’s Oikawa.”

Ushijima’s eyes widened–

“That has not been confirmed,” said Toritsuka with an exasperated huff. “Ushijima. If you have a personal investment in this, I can get Tomu–”

“Unnecessary,” said Ushijima. “Oikawa and I… were acquaintances. Nothing more.”

Iwaizumi almost laughed. Not according to Tooru. They’d been bitter rivals to the very end. Tooru even went so far as to call Ushijima his _arch nemesis_ , like the drama queen that he was. Normal people didn’t _have_ arch nemesis.

What a strange position to be in, there, in that situation, relying on _Ushijima Wakatoshi,_ of all people, to save the love of his life and Ushijima’s own arch nemesis.

Fuck.

It was dark. And it was _cold._

Tooru’s body felt heavy, his mind even more so. All he wanted was to sink back into the hazy darkness that pushed and infringed at every corner of his mind–

Instead, he lifted his weary arm and continued to smack the rock into the pipe that protruded from the slab of concrete behind him.

The clang echoed throughout the black. He hoped someone could hear it.

He had never been afraid of the dark, but sitting there now in the sea of ink, he felt like he was in the depths of the ocean, the weight and pressure of the darkness around him and the water above him pushing in on him from all sides–

Or maybe that was the concrete.

He had no idea what the state of the room around him was, not a single shadow stood out in the darkness. All he knew was what he could feel, which wasn’t much, considering the cold numbness that permeated every cell of his body. Probably from the water. While he’d stopped hearing it running a while ago, the puddle he sat in hadn’t gone away.

He was sitting upright, leaning against what he assumed had once been part of the laundry room’s concrete walls. His legs were outstretched, the right one as useless as ever, the left one pinned.

He was too scared to move.

He wasn’t in any pain, and that was the problem. Tooru was always in pain, ever since he’d fucked up his knee the first time back in high school, and it had only been exacerbated since his surgery. There were good days and there were bad days, but even on the good days there was still an ever-present ache, easy to ignore but never gone.

And now he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

Tooru let the arm he was using to hit the pipe drop to his side so he could catch his breath. It was embarrassing, how exhausted such a simple task made him. He’d switch arms, but the other one was… not cooperating. He didn’t want to think about why. He didn’t want to think about the numbness and what it meant. He didn’t want to think about his pinned leg. He didn’t want to think about how he was probably buried under tons of concrete–

He wondered if anyone had heard him.

He wondered if anyone even knew he was trapped down there.

Hajime…

He wanted Hajime…

He wanted to be held. To be gathered up in Hajime’s arms under the blankets–

Oh.

Their apartment was gone now, wasn’t it? Their blankets… Their bed…

Everything.

Tooru’s eyes stung and his lip trembled. He clenched his eyes shut. It was stupid. It was so stupid, to be sad about their _things_ when there was so much more at stake–

But–

_But–_

Their _home_ …

Tooru sniffed in the darkness and took a shaking breath. Iwa-chan, at least, was fine. He’d stayed at work late, so he was safe. He hadn’t been inside, like Tooru. He hadn’t put off doing the laundry for three weeks, like Tooru. He hadn’t only just decided to do it today because he’d finally run out of socks, like Tooru–

Shit.

_Shit._

He wanted Hajime. He needed Hajime. He couldn’t sit there anymore, he _couldn’t_. He swallowed, his throat dry with dust. He contemplated leaning forward, to try and maneuver whatever was pinning his leg with his good arm, but a creeping sense of unease curled within him. He didn’t feel any pain, which meant something was wrong. Moving was probably a terrible, dangerous idea–

But he couldn’t _breathe–_

And then he heard it. Rocks and gravel grating against one another. Tiny crumbs of concrete tapping to the ground as something up and to the left of him shifted–

And light flooded his surroundings. 

Tooru’s stomach swooped uncomfortably in his chest as he squinted against the light. He was lucky to be alive–which, he’d known already, but _God…_

He was _really_ lucky to be alive.

He was in a small air pocket, surrounded by large slabs of concrete and debris. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been crushed instantly. Dead. Gone. No more Oikawa Tooru.

The floor was covered in an inch of water from the burst pipes, and his leg–

His leg was pinned under concrete from the knee down.

Tooru squinted towards the light, and the shadow behind it. He opened his mouth to speak and coughed, the dust stuck in his lungs–

“Oikawa?”

 _What the fucking hell?_ Was that–?

“I am pleased to see you’re alive.”

Tooru was overwhelmed with several very conflicting emotions. “Who the fuck _says_ that _?”_ he croaked. 

“It’s me. Ushijima Wakatoshi. Do you remember me? We used to play volleyball together–”

“Of course I fucking remember you!” Tooru snapped.

“I’m here to get you out.”

“You– _You’re_ here to–” What the _fuck_? The light shifted, and Tooru could see Ushijima through a gap in the rubble, crawling on his chest, clad in a _fireman’s_ uniform. Ushijima was a firefighter.

Ushijima’s gaze fell on Tooru’s leg, and his brow furrowed. “You’re stuck.” He examined the hole he was currently peering through, not big enough for his body. “I cannot reach you. I’m going to need more airbags and cribbing to stabilize the opening before I can move anything else. I will return shortly.” He turned away, and panic jolted through Tooru’s body.

“Wait–!”

Ushijima stopped and turned back with a frown. “The quicker I go, the sooner we can get you out.”

“You think I don’t know that?” snapped Tooru, his breaths coming faster, but he couldn’t be left alone in the dark again. He _couldn’t._

“Calm down–”

“You’re terrible at your job! How haven’t you been fired?”

“Oikawa–”

“If you leave me alone down here, Ushiwaka, _I_ _swear to God,_ I will never forgive you! _”_

“No one else can come down here until it’s stable,” said Ushijima. “I have to go back.”

Oikawa whined and let his head fall back against the concrete, trying to keep the panic at bay as his heart pounded in his chest–

“You need to calm down.”

“ _You’re not helping!_ ”

There was a long moment of silence as Tooru concentrated on breathing. “Then tell me how I can help you.”

“I don’t– I can’t–”

“Oikawa–”

There was a high ringing in his ears as dread and fear wrapped around him, burrowing down his throat and into his lungs, suffocating him–

The certainty that he was going to die was overwhelming. His entire body was numb, one foot surely already in the grave. His fear of moving had to stem from somewhere, some unconscious awareness of his own body that said, ‘hey, probably not a good idea right now, your body is seriously fucked up.’

He was going to die. All alone, in the dark. Ushijima was going to leave, and by the time he got back, Oikawa would be dead, and someone would have to tell Iwa-chan. Please, God, let someone other than Ushijima tell Iwa-chan–

“–ooru. Tooru.”

Tooru choked. “ _Hajime–_ ”

“It’s all right, Tooru, you’re okay. We’re gonna get you out. You hear me? I promise we’re gonna get you out of there, but you need to breathe for me, okay? Breath with me.”

Where–? Was Iwa-chan _there_?

“Tooru, _please_. Please, breathe. Come on, Baby.”

Anything… Anything for Iwa-chan.

Tooru breathed. Shaky and shallow. And again. And again. After a minute or so, his mind started to clear. “That’s it. You’re doing great, Tooru. I’m right here. _I’m right here._ ”

“You’re _not,_ ” Tooru choked. It was still just Tooru and _stupid Ushiwaka_ –

And Tooru finally saw the cell phone, held out through the hole in the rubble by Ushijima’s gloved hand.

“I’m right outside,” came Hajime’s voice from the phone, and he sounded _wrecked._ “I can’t come in, but I’m right here.”

“Hajime,” Tooru whimpered.

“I know. _I know._ I’m gonna stay on the phone with you, okay? Ushijima has to leave for a minute, but I’ll be right with you the whole time.”

Tooru sniffled and nodded, which Hajime couldn’t see, but Ushijima could. Ushijima balanced the phone on a piece of fallen drywall and set the flashlight next to it before disappearing into the darkness.

“Tooru?”

“I’m here.” The words came out so quiet, he wasn’t sure he’d said them at all. “Ushiwaka… he’s gone.”

“He’ll be right back,” promised Hajime. “Tooru, I need you to tell me the truth. Are you hurt?”

That familiar, cold dread was back. “I…” He swallowed, his mouth dry. “I think so.”

There was a quiet sound of distress. “You _think_ so?”

“I can’t feel anything.”

“You–” Hajime broke off.

“Hello?” A new voice, deep and reassuring. “Oikawa-san, this is Chief Toritsuka of the fire department. We have a medical team standing by, but it would really help us out if you could tell us what to expect.”

“Hajime–!”

“He’s right here, Son.”

“I’m here, Tooru.”

“You need to tell us how badly you’re hurt. You said you can’t feel anything?”

“I’m… My whole body is numb.”

“You’re in shock, that’s normal. Can you move?”

“Yes…”

“Oikawa,” barked Hajime.

“Mostly,” said Tooru, his voice cracking.

“Mostly?” said Toritsuka.

“I don’t…”

“Oikawa-san. Take it one step at a time.”

“I’m… My leg is pinned, but… I can’t feel it. And my arm…”

“What’s wrong with your arm?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you move it?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you tried?”

 _Had_ he tried? He’d been about to, when– “No,” he whispered. “Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong with it, I know it, I don’t want to– I don’t want to move it–”

“Okay,” said Toritsuka, his voice steady, “you don’t have to. All you have to do is sit tight as we wait for Ushijima, okay? Can you do that?”

Tooru felt the tears fall.

“Oikawa-san?”

“I don’t think I can…”

“You can,” said Toritsuka, and he sounded so sure, so calm, that Tooru almost believed him. “I’m giving the phone back to Iwaizumi-san, now.”

There was a shuffling noise before– “Tooru?”

“Hajime,” Tooru sobbed.

“You’re so close to getting out of there, I promise,” said Hajime, his voice hoarse. “Please don’t cry.”

“If I die–”

“Stop that,” said Hajime, hard and unforgiving. “What the hell, Tooru? What did I say? I said we’re getting you out–”

“I love you.”

A long, shaking breath from Hajime’s end. “I love you, too. I love you so goddamn much.”

The urge to lean forward to free his leg nearly overwhelmed him yet again, but there, still, niggling at the back of his mind–

A warning. And icy, clenching fear.

“I think something’s really wrong,” said Tooru, soft.

“Why–” Hajime’s voice broke. “Why are you saying that? I told you not to lie to me, Tooru, if you’re hiding something–”

“I’m not!”

“Then what makes you think that?”

“I…” How could he explain the icy cage constricting around his heart? “It’s just a feeling.”

“Well, I have a feeling, too,” said Hajime. “I have a feeling you’re gonna come out of this just fine. We both know you’re a drama queen.”

“Hajime–”

“You are. You’re a drama queen, and you’re gonna be fine.”

Tooru sniffed. “Okay.”

“You said your leg is pinned… Which one?”

“Left.”

Hajime let out a long breath. “How’s the other one? How’s your knee?”

“Don’t know,” said Tooru. “Doesn’t hurt.” The last time his knee had been this pain free was before the morphine wore off after his surgery in college. Toritsuka had said he was in shock? How long would that last?

“It doesn’t look swollen?”

“No.”

“Good. That’s… That’s good.”

“I’m scared.”

A choked breath. Was Hajime crying?

There was the sound of shifting rock. Tooru looked to the side to see Ushijima, back at the other side of the hole, rummaging around with wooden blocks and flat, blue bags.

“Iwaizumi,” said Ushijima. “I’m going to have to hang up.”

“No!” Tooru cried, his panic spiking–

“Oikawa. I need to be able to communicate over radio with my team. The electromagnetic interference–”

“God, _fine,_ ” said Tooru. “I hate you, Ushiwaka,” he said. “ _I hate you I hate you I hate you–”_

“I am aware.”

“I’ll see you soon, Tooru,” came Hajime’s voice over the phone.

Tooru didn’t believe him.

Ushijima hung up the phone and got to work stabilizing the area around the hole as Tooru craned his neck to watch. He eyed the radio still fixed to Ushijima’s belt. “You’re not even using it,” he snapped.

“I’m the Captain of my team. They need to be able to get ahold of me if they run into trouble. So while I am not actively using it, it is serving a purpose.”

“I hate you.”

“As I said, I am aware.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m… getting you out–”

“No, I mean why aren’t you off playing volleyball?”

Ushijima frowned. “I retired.”

“I know that, Ushiwaka,” spat Tooru. As much as he hated to admit it, he had followed Ushijima’s volleyball career. And Tobio-chan’s. And Chibi-chan’s. “ _Why?”_

“There were things in my life I wanted to do that weren’t volleyball.”

Tooru grit his teeth.

“I heard about your accident. I tried to reach out when it happened, but for some reason, my calls never went through.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“It’s a real mystery,” agreed Ushijima.

“God, I hate you.”

“I am sorry about what happened, Oikawa.”

“I don’t want an apology from _you._ ”

Ushijima placed the last of the cribbing and inflated another airbag. “I think it’s safe to get through, now.” He pushed against a chunk of rubble that was blocking his way. It shifted, but the stabilized concrete around it stayed firm. The rubble fell from the hole, widening the opening enough for Ushijima to crawl through.

Ushijima maneuvered himself through the hole and got to his feet even as he crouched low to avoid hitting his head on the collapsed ceiling. He pulled his radio from his belt. “This is Ushijima. The path to the basement has been stabilized. I need a backboard, a medic, and one more set of cribbing. Over.”

“This is Kai. Roger that, Ushijima. Over,” came the response.

Ushijima knelt down at Oikawa’s side with his flashlight, his boots splashing in the water. He looked at Oikawa’s face with a furrowed brow. “You were crying.”

Tooru felt his cheeks heat up. “Of– _Of course I was_. Stupid Ushiwaka-chan. What kind of emotionless bastard do you take me for?”

“You don’t need to be scared. I will get you out.”

For some reason, Tooru couldn’t make himself voice the next insult on his tongue. “How can you be sure?”

“Because no matter what you think, I am good at my job.” Ushijima reached for Tooru’s face, and Tooru flinched back, holding up his good arm between them.

“What are you doing?”

“A quick assessment.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“I’m a fireman, Oikawa, we are trained to do this.”

Tooru reluctantly lowered his hand. “If you hurt me, I’ll tell Iwa-chan. He’ll kick your ass.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Ushijima’s hands were gentle as they probed around Tooru’s head. His neck. His chest and abdomen. He was extra careful when he reached Tooru’s pinned leg. “Does any of this hurt?”

“No,” Tooru muttered.

“You seem okay, aside from the leg. Is there anything that feels off?”

“…”

“Oikawa?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you–”

“I can’t feel any pain, and I’m too scared to move.” _I’m not paralyzed. I can’t be paralyzed. I would know if I were paralyzed._

“Hmm… You said you feel cold?”

“… Yeah.”

“All over?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I doubt you’re paralyzed. It’s likely you’re in shock. The adrenaline is blocking the pain from your mind.”

In shock. Toritsuka-san had said that as well. “You’re sure?”

“Try to wiggle the toes on your right foot.”

Tooru’s breath hitched. “We should probably wait for a medical professional–”

“Oikawa.”

Tooru gulped. He looked down at his foot, clad in his white Adidas sneaker, soaked through to the sock. He tried to wiggle his toes–

And the tip of his shoe moved.

Relief washed over him, making him dizzy with exhaustion. He could move. He was okay. He wasn’t paralyzed. He bent his leg at the knee, while it was disconcerting to do so without pain, to see it move at all was more than he had hoped for. He tried to wiggle the fingers on his right hand–

And there.

There was definitely something wrong.

They were moving, but…

He bent his arm at the elbow, and again it moved, but–

Tooru’s breathing sped up and he didn’t know why–

“Oikawa?”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Your arm?”

Tooru let it fall back to his side. A strange sensation that originated in his back and resonated down his arm, a dull echo of something that was almost an ache, a pull of something that was almost agony–

Ushijima stepped over Tooru’s legs, maneuvering himself to Tooru’s other side to examine up his arm and his shoulder– and he froze.

“What?” said Tooru. “What is it? _Ushiwaka!_ ” Now that Tooru had moved, now that he was aware of this echo of pain, the sensations sharpened. They grew. It started to hurt.

It started to _really hurt._

Tooru’s breathing was getting out of control.

“Oikawa, calm down–”

“It _hurts–_ ”

“Don’t move–”

“It hurts. _Ushiwaka._ ” He stared into Ushijima’s eyes which were wide with worry and fear–

Scraping gravel. A medic crawled through the hole with a backboard, a fireman with a pack of cribbing and another air bag.

Ushijima and the other fireman quickly got to work on the concrete pinning Tooru’s leg.

“Breathe, Oikawa. You’re almost out. Iwaizumi is waiting for you.”

“Hajime… _Hajime…_ ”

The medic started looking Tooru over.

“Check near his right shoulder blade,” Ushijima informed.

“Why _?”_ cried Tooru. “What’s wrong?”

“Oikawa-san,” said the medic, her eyes stern, “breathe.”

“We’re gonna free your leg now, Oikawa,” said Ushijima.

They inflated the air bag, lifting the concrete–

And sensation flooded into his leg–

Tooru _screamed,_ pulling away, and his back exploded in pain–

He kicked, and his right knee was _on fire_ –

He descended into blackness.

Aboveground, away from the rubble and the dust-filled air, Iwaizumi Hajime clenched his eyes shut tight as he sank to the ground in a crouch, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to stay calm, to stay optimistic, to not _lose his fucking mind–_

And then there they were.

Ushijima, carrying one end of the backboard, backing out of the rubble, another fireman carrying the other end as a medic hovered over the body of Oikawa Tooru­–

They’d laid him face down. He’d never seen that before. Was that normal? Was he dead?

“Tooru!” Hajime leapt to his feet and ran to their side. “Tooru–”

Blood. Bright red and vibrant, it covered the back of Tooru’s shirt. His heart felt like it dropped three stories.

“What…”

More firemen came to take the burden of the backboard, allowing Ushijima to release his end. “Iwaizumi. He’s alive.”

Hajime could only stare at the _red_ –

“Iwaizumi.”

 _“Iwaizumi-san_.” It was the medic. “Do you want to ride in the ambulance with him?”

Hajime nodded jerkily, staggering after them as they lifted Tooru into the back of an ambulance, losing Ushijima in the chaos.

The siren hurt his ears. Hajime kept out of the way as the medics worked, putting Tooru on oxygen, cutting off Tooru’s shirt with clinical precision, revealing a terrible, bloody hole near his shoulder blade that was quickly covered with gauze as the medic pressed down, hard. The other medic turned their attention to Tooru’s left leg which laid at an odd angle.

How was this his life?

Just that morning, Tooru had packed him a bento and kissed him goodbye on his way to work.

How was this real?

They made it to the hospital, and inevitably reached the doors where Hajime could no longer follow. 

He was ushered to the waiting room where he stood, eyes wide, hands shaking, as he tried to make sense of the words that had been thrown around in the back of the ambulance, words like _crush injury_ and _possible punctured lung_ –

“–ir. Excuse me, Sir.” It was a nurse. She looked worried. “Do you need to sit down? Should I call someone for you?”

Call someone? He should… he should call someone…

“No. No, thank you, I can do it.” Hajime sat down and pulled out his phone after she left. Who should he call? Tooru’s mother? Tooru’s sister?

Somehow, he found himself dialing Matsukawa.

“Yo, Iwaizumi. Makki and I need you to settle something for us. Which one of us do you think would win–”

“Mattsun.”

“Iwaizumi? Are you all right?”

“I…” Hajime’s breathing hitched. “I can’t lose him, Mattsun, _I can’t_. If something happens to Tooru–”

“Whoa, hold up. What the fuck happed to Oikawa?”

Hajime told him, and Mattsun and Makki burst through the doors not fifteen minutes later. “Iwaizumi,” called Mattsun. He looked wrecked, and Makki’s eyes were red and puffy.

“No news?” said Makki, his voice hoarse.

Hajime shook his head.

Then Ushijima walked through the door, still in full fireman gear.

“The fuck?” said Mattsun.

“He’s the one who pulled Tooru out.”

“You’re kidding,” said Makki, with no humor in his voice.

Ushijima spotted them and strode over. “Iwaizumi,” he greeted. He looked at Matsukawa and Hanamaki. “You were also from Aoba Johsai… You’ll have to excuse me. I don’t remember your names.”

“Tch,” said Makki, his eyebrow twitching.

“You’re still a real piece of work,” Mattsun muttered.

“Ushijima, what are you doing here?” asked Hajime.

“I was… distracted. Chief ordered me to check in on Oikawa. He said they have things handled.”

“Name’s Hanamaki,” said Makki pointedly, crossing his arms.

“And Matsukawa,” said Mattsun, standing up straight. “Such a pleasure it’s been to meet you twice.”

“You as well.”

Makki grit his teeth. “Oikawa’s gonna be fine, so you don’t need to stay.”

“Makki,” said Hajime wearily. Makki only looked a little ashamed. “He saved Tooru’s life. He can stay as long as he wants.”

“Oikawa’s not gonna be happy.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have seen Oikawa’s face when Ushijima was the one who came to save him,” said Mattsun wistfully.

“He did not seem happy,” said Ushijima.

Makki snorted.

“No shit,” said Mattsun.

“He told me he hated me six times.”

Makki’s let out a startled laugh. “ _Six?_ ”

“He was distressed.”

“What happened down there?” asked Hajime. “How was he? The doctors haven’t told me anything.”

“I’m not sure I should–”

“ _Ushijima_.” Makki and Mattsun flinched. “Please. Just… tell me.”

Ushijima sighed and sat in the seat across from Hajime. “I found him in an air pocket. His leg was pinned under some concrete, but otherwise he appeared to be fine. It was a little flooded, so he was wet and cold, but… I assume he told you how he couldn’t feel any pain?”

Hajime nodded. Makki and Mattsun listened, eerily silent.

“He was awake and talking, cognizant and rational, but when I had to leave for a moment, he panicked. That’s when I called you.”

“Why do you have Iwaizumi’s number?” asked Mattsun, confused.

“I managed to get it a few years ago when my attempts at contacting Oikawa after his injury fell through. Oikawa did not seem to know why my calls were dropped. It really is a mystery.”

Again, Makki couldn’t hold back a short laugh of disbelief. Mattsun elbowed him in the side.

“When I returned, I was finally able to reach him,” said Ushijima. “Oikawa hadn’t been able to feel it at first, but–”

“At first?” said Hajime, cold dread wrapping around him.

“As the adrenaline subsided, the pain of his injuries made themselves known,” said Ushijima. “He’d been impaled through the back by a piece of rebar.”

“Oh, God,” said Hajime, dropping his head into his hands, feeling like he was going to throw up. _The blood…_

“I couldn’t tell how deep the rebar went until we pulled him off. Typically, things like that are left in the body until we can get the patient to the hospital, but… with his crush injury, we couldn’t afford to wait for the materials to detach the rebar from the concrete. Crush injuries are… tricky. The sooner we got his leg free, the better. Judging by the size of the rebar, I don’t think it went all that deep, but it definitely broke a rib or two, and that arises the possibility of one of his ribs puncturing his lung–”

Hajime’s stomach lurched. Two steady hands rested on his back.

“Oikawa…” said Mattsun. “He can survive this, can’t he?”

“Like I said, crush injuries are tricky,” said Ushijima. “We got him out fast, so we shouldn’t have to worry about crush syndrome, and punctured lungs are bad, but they’re treatable.”

“So he should be fine,” said Makki, his voice on the edge of desperate.

“There’s no way to tell but wait.”

So they waited.

For hours.

Hajime lost his composure once or twice along the way, and once more when the doctor came out and said Oikawa pulled through. Ushijima seemed to deflate as he relaxed back into his chair with a heavy breath of relief as Makki and Mattsun fought against their own tears.

Tooru was going to be okay. Neither the rebar nor the rib had punctured his lung, and the only lasting damage would be from a broken leg and two broken ribs.

He was okay.

_He was okay._

_Fuck._

“Goddammit, Tooru,” choked Hajime, his hand pressed tight over his eyes as if trying to stop the tears from coming out. “You’ve always been such a drama queen.”

Makki had happy tears in his eyes. “He owes us bigtime. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared my entire life.”

“Yeah, fuck you, Oikawa,” said Mattsun with a relieved, hysterical laugh.

Not long after the good news, a doctor said they could go to his room to see him, and that he would wake up soon.

It was a small room Tooru had to himself, and the four of them crammed themselves inside. Mattsun and Makki caught sight of the lone chair in the corner at the same time and ran over each other trying to get to it first, somehow both of them managing to squish into it in positions that looked distinctly uncomfortable. Their tall, lanky limbs fell over each other as they sat, too stubborn to move.

Hajime grabbed Tooru’s hand and clutched it in his own. He gently ran the back of his fingers over Tooru’s cheek.

“I am glad Oikawa is okay,” said Ushijima. “If you would please tell him when he wakes up, Iwaizumi.”

“Oi,” said Hajime. Ushijima froze in the doorway. “Don’t even think about it. Oikawa owes you a thank you, and I wanna see his trash face when he does it.”

“Oh, God yes,” said Makki.

“And I owe you a thank you, too,” said Hajime, pulling away from Tooru to face Ushijima. He lowered himself to his hands and knees and pressed his forehead to the floor in a dogeza, gratitude welling up inside of him, choking him. _“Arigatou gozaimashita.”_

“Oi…” came Mattsun’s low voice.

“Iwa…” said Makki, hesitant.

“Get off the floor, Iwaizumi,” said Ushijima, soft.

“You saved the most important person in the world to me. I will never forget this. You saved Tooru’s life. You saved _my_ life. Please stay.” Hajime waited, his palms and forehead flat on the cold, linoleum floor.

“… Okay.”

Hajime sat up and nodded, wiping his eyes. He stood and brushed at the knees of his pants.

It took about a half an hour for Tooru to come around. By that time, Hajime had informed Tooru’s mother of the situation, and Mattsun and Makki had surrendered their chair to Hajime who had resolutely stood by Tooru’s side to hold his hand. Ushijima stood in the corner, as Mattsun and Makki sat on the floor playing the hand-slap game.

“Hajime…”

Hajime sat up, and when his eyes met a soft, chocolate brown, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Hey, Sleepykawa. How you feeling?”

Tooru shifted and winced before managing a weak grin. “Alive.”

“I told you you’d be fine.”

Tooru breathed out a laugh. “You did.”

“Oikawa,” said Mattsun, standing up, his hands red as the clear loser of the slap game.

“Mattsun! Makki!”

“Hey, Oikawa,” said Makki, also shuffling forward. “You gave us a real scare.”

Tooru smiled softly. “Sorry. I–” His eyes caught sight of Ushijima and he froze.

“Oikawa,” greeted Ushijima.

Tooru made the weirdest face Hajime had ever seen him make in their thirty-three years of knowing each other. It was a twisted, off-balance thing as years of pent up resentment and grudges and stout dislike battled against crippling gratitude. Tooru huffed and looked away. “Ushijima.”

Ushijima blinked. It was the first time Oikawa had ever called him anything other than his crude nickname _Ushiwaka_.

“I suppose,” said Tooru, “if you got me out… you aren’t as terrible at your job as I originally thought.”

“Seriously, Oikawa?” said Hajime as Matsukawa and Hanamaki laughed.

Tooru looked down and picked at the blanket. “But even so… thank you.”

Ushijima’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Mattsun and Makki’s jaws dropped.

“Did he just…?”

Tooru huffed. “I’m not going to say it again!”

“I don’t expect you to,” said Ushijima. “Get well soon, Oikawa.”

“Ushijima!”

Ushijima paused.

“I don’t… I mean, I don’t really… I never…” Tooru took a deep breath. “I don’t hate you. So.”

Ushijima blinked. “I don’t hate you either.”

“Of course not, I’m a delight,” Tooru snapped.

Ushijima smiled. “I really think you and Tendou would have gotten along well. If you had come to Shiratorizawa–”

“Get out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just kept getting longer, there was nothing I could do about it! Hope it's satisfactory!

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on this story in tandem with Boku no Sukinahito, a collection of bokuaka oneshots. I hope you enjoy!


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